


Hanson Family Values

by darenotlove



Series: SNAFUBAR [4]
Category: Hanson, Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 11:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2580536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darenotlove/pseuds/darenotlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little Halloween fluff. Set present day (2014) in the SNAFUBARverse. It was originally supposed to be pointless cuteness, but TommyJoe had other ideas. :p</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hanson Family Values

Last year's Halloween was total chaos.

It was our first Halloween together as a family. We choose not to count 2012 because we'd only _just_ moved to L.A., Tommy wasn't even living with us, and Ezra refused to wear a costume or participate in any real way. But last Halloween wasn't like that at all. We'd spent all summer on a tour bus together, and we'd come away from the experience with minimal physical (and psychological) scarring.

It was official; we were a family, truly, _finally_.

But spending all summer on a tour bus together meant that we were still trying settle back into day-to-day life in our Hollywood Hills home when Halloween rolled around. We'd been back in L.A. for a couple of months, but between the kids going back to school, Ezra moving back in with us, and Tommy and I both trying to figure out where the hell our respective careers were headed next, that time flew by like nothing at all. Before we knew it we were two days away from Halloween, and not _one_ of us had a costume! It was too late in the game to try to co-ordinate a themed family costume of any kind, so we let the kids pick out whatever they wanted from what was left on the racks at Party City. Tommy donned his traditional creature of the night garb, and I bought myself a bullwhip, put on a leather jacket and a fedora, and declared myself Indiana Jones. At first, Tommy bemoaned that I was "half-assing it" on "his holiday".

He wasn't complaining anywhere near as much later that night when Indy _very_ heroically fended off a vampire attack with his bare hands, tackling the demonic creature to the ground before overpowering it completely. Well, _almost_ completely. The vampire may have gotten one or two bites in before being "staked"...

Anyway, the point is, there was no cohesion in our costume choices. We wandered the streets like a band of misfits; a vampire, an aging action hero, a couple of super heroes, a princess, the boy who lived, a giant bumble bee, and an over-excited dog in a rainbow tutu. Don't get me wrong, we looked pretty awesome for having put two days worth of work into our outfits, but we could have done _so_ much better if we'd been more prepared.

 _This_ Halloween we _were_ more prepared.

We came up with our theme in August. It happened so naturally, it was one of those _very_ rare moments where everything falls into place without a fuss and everyone is in agreement. We were all lounging around in the movie room one Friday night, passing pizza back and forth while watching one of Tommy's favorite old TV shows. It wasn't any different from how we spend most Friday nights; it's a routine we've fallen into over the course of the last year or so. Tommy or I will pick the kids up from school, usually whichever of us is less preoccupied with work, or sometimes we'll both go. We'll get them home and get their homework out of the way, then one of us will order takeout of some kind while the other gets the kids into their PJs. Eventually we'll all congregate in the movie room, snuggling into recliners with our Chinese food, or burgers, or tacos,  and we'll spend a few hours watching "I Love Lucy", or "The Simpsons". Or in this particular instance, "The Addams Family".

As soon as Tommy suggested we dress up as the characters we were watching on screen, we were all chattering excitedly about which of us should be which member of The Addams Family. It didn't take long to decide (or to have it decided for me) that I would be Gomez. Penny wanted to be Wednesday, Ezra volunteered to be Lurch (even though he still isn't taller than me, despite the many growth spurts he keeps hitting), River called dibs on Uncle Fester, Viggo was happy to take on the role of Pugsley, and Asta was assigned the part of Pubert (she didn't really get a say in the matter).  And Tommy...

Tommy wanted to be Morticia.

The kids thought that was the funniest thing they'd _ever_ heard. River laughed so hard that he actually fell out of the recliner he was sharing with Viggo, and Penny immediately gave Tommy one of those "you _cannot_ be serious" looks that she so frequently seems to direct at him. I wasn't amused by the idea at all, though. I was _totally_ aroused.

How could I not be?!

The last time Tommy dressed up as a woman for Halloween, I had some of the hottest sex I've ever had in my life! The idea of seeing him like that again, with the makeup, and the hair, and the dress... hell, even the breasts! It's such a turn on, I'm not sure how I'm supposed to remain calm and composed enough to take my kids out for an evening of Halloween fun before I have chance to get him alone!

I guess I should figure that part out pretty damn quickly!

"I'm coming out." He declares from inside our adjoining bathroom, causing me to immediately cease studying my pinstripe suit in the mirror and turn to stare at the bathroom door instead. " _Don't_ fucking laugh!"

"I'm not gonna laugh!" I assure him.

It'd probably be better for all of us if I did. This evening will go by _a lot_ faster for me if I find his costume funny rather than sexy. But I already know that won't be the case; I'm holding my breath as I watch the doorknob turn, and my heart rate only increases with every inch the door opens further. Until he finally steps out into the bedroom with me...

" _Wow_."

"Wow, yourself." He smirks, trying to disguise how self-conscious he obviously feels by deflecting the attention onto me. I don't know why he thinks that's going to work for more than a second. "You look fucking awesome."

"Then I seriously don't know what word is appropriate to describe how _you_ look." I tell him in awe, shaking my head as I ogle him unashamedly.

He blushes. Even the makeup can't conceal it, and he knows it, which is why he ducks his head shyly in an attempt to hide it. "Whatever. It's not like it's the first time you've seen me in a dress."

"Sure as hell feels like it is."

"Well, deal with it. We don't have time for you to do anything about it now."

For a moment, I find myself incapable of moving. All I can do as he struts across our bedroom in his slinky, floor-length black dress is stare after him with my mouth hanging open! But I snap out of my stupor just in time to beat him to the door, blocking his exit and earning myself a playful scowl.

"Don't even _think_ about it."

"Too late." I tell him suggestively.

"Fine, think about it but don't act on it!"

With a wicked smile on my face and a mischievous gleam in my eyes, I take his hand in mine, raising it to my lips and placing a lingering kiss to it. I steal a peek at him as my mouth begins to make its way along his arm,  and I find him struggling to keep the smile off of his face. He rolls his eyes at me, but I hear him laughing quietly to himself as he allows me to pull him nearer, my lips hungrily seeking out his shoulder.

"Say something French!" I urge him.

"Le fuck."

I should've seen that coming. "More!"

"Le fuck du jour!" He cusses with a chuckle, though I have no idea if it's this crazy situation that's amusing him or if my fake mustache is tickling his neck.

I spin him around to face me suddenly, which catches him off guard and causes him to gasp softly. Just the sound of it sends a shiver down my spine and makes me want him that much more. But no sooner have my lips claimed his, there's an intrusive knocking on the door behind us.

"Daddy, I can't get the light bulb for my mouth to turn on!" River informs me anxiously from out in the hallway. "I think it needs a new battery."

"Okay, dude, I'll get you one in a second!" I tell him, waiting for his grudging "okay" before turning my attention back to Tommy's blood red lips. "Where were we?"

He begins to lean in again, practically melting against me as my hands glide over the silky fabric at his sides. But the second our mouths meet we hear a _screech_ of discontent that can only belong to the smallest (and yet somehow the loudest) member of our family.

With a sigh, he lets go of me and steps out of my embrace. Even though I want to stop him, I know it's pointless. We've reached the portion of the evening where everyone is going to need last minute help with their wigs, makeup and... light bulbs, apparently. Jenna might be a super nanny, but there's no way she can help all five of them put the finishing touches on their costumes by herself!

"You get the batteries, I'll get the devil child." He instructs me, and we exchange a brief mini-high five before going our separate ways.

Go team!

Luckily, the light bulb from River's Uncle Fester costume really does just need a new battery, and Asta is only freaking out because she didn't want Jenna _or_ Ezra to draw a moustache on her with one of Tommy's eyeliner pencils. She'll let Tommy do it, though, because Tommy can do no wrong in her eyes. She and I have that in common (most of the time). Viggo's outfit was the easiest to put together, he didn't even really need makeup or props, and the most difficult part of everyone else's costumes seems to be getting their wigs to stay on and look at least _slightly_ realistic. Jenna did an amazing job painting River's face and hands white and giving him dark circles under his eyes. You can barely even see the edge of his skull cap, he really looks _bald_ , and he's damn excited about it!

When Penny emerges from her bedroom with raven black pig tails, she takes one look at Tommy in his Morticia costume and I swear she almost passes out from the shock. And Tommy being Tommy, his only response is to casually point out that she owes him ten bucks.

"Why?" She asks in total confusion.

"'Cause you bet me ten bucks I couldn't pull this costume off, and I totally did."

"I _never_ said-"

"The look on your face said it all." He cuts her off plainly, ignoring her chastising scowl in favor of flipping one of her pigtails at her nose. "Who's the fairest of them all, Pippy?"

The moment his back is turned, the glare she's giving him vanishes from her face and is immediately replaced by a smile as she shakes her head. "He's _so_ lame."

"Yeah, he is." I chuckle softly, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and giving her a gentle squeeze. "Ready to go threaten total strangers for candy?"

"Yup!" She beams, holding up a headless doll that I didn't even notice she had in her hands until now. "Look what I did!"

"That had better not be your sister's favorite doll!"

"The head pops right back on! I already checked!"

She disappears downstairs before I have a chance to debate the fact that when she "checked" that the head would pop right back on, she'd already pulled it off of the Disney doll that Asta refuses to sleep without! I guess it doesn't matter now, though. As long as she can recapitate Princess Ana by the end of the night, we're all good.

You've gotta learn to pick your battles, you know?

Once the costumes are all completed (and we all look fucking _amazing_ , if I do say so myself), we begin the process of picture taking. Jenna happily volunteers to take every picture on both my phone _and_ Tommy's for good measure, telling us all _not_ to smile before each shot. The kids are all totally in character, it's crazy (with the exception of Asta, obviously, but at least she tolerates the prolonged photo shoot without getting too cranky).

"This one is _definitely_ a keeper." Jenna tells me excitedly as she hands my phone back to me. "You _have_ to tweet it or something."

"Oh, yeah." Tommy agrees with a smile as he peers down at the screen of my iPhone. "The Harris-Burtka clan has _nothing_ on us this year!"

I nudge him with my hip as I attempt to sound somewhat stern. "Don't _you_ start; it's not a competition."

It's really not. Not for _us_ , at least.

But since Neil Patrick Harris and David Burtka are two of the highest profile gay dads out there, celebrity "news" outlets have started comparing every instagram picture we post and family outing we go on. One or two magazines even tried to start a rumor that there was some kind of bad blood between us, like any of us would actually _care_ whose family was viewed as the most adorable from one day to the next. In fact, Neil even tweeted congratulations to me when Tommy and I tied the knot earlier this year.

So suck on that, In Touch Weekly!

The sad fact is, though, that we have become way more famous for our "Gay Dad" status than for anything we do professionally. It sucks, but there's not a whole lot we can do about it. Other than hiding away at home and never sharing anything about our lives on our personal social media accounts the way _everyone_ else on the planet is allowed to. But we refuse to censor ourselves that way.

Besides, the publicity is free, and so far it's been mostly positive. As long as people keep their distance with my kids and don't get too personal, I really don't care if us spending the day at Disneyland makes headlines on People.com, or if Perez thinks our latest random family selfie is worth writing an entire blog about. It's not like we're being constantly hounded by stalkerazzi photographers the way a lot of other celebrities in Hollywood are, it's not a daily thing by any means. We've got it (relatively) easy. We've learned to let other people do their thing and not let it stop us from doing ours.

And tonight, our thing happens to be heading over to Burbank to join Tommy's family at a Halloween Carnival.

The kids and I have definitely gotten closer to the Ratliff family over the last couple of years. With our family so far away, Tommy's family has taken it upon themselves to "adopt" us all. We spend plenty of time together, and not just on holidays and special occasions. Sometimes they'll come over to our place for dinner or brunch, or if they're feeling brave enough to have our entire herd over, we'll go out to Burbank instead.

It's not quite the same as having my own family around, and it's not like my kids don't miss everyone back in Tulsa, but it definitely helps lessen any pangs of homesickness. And it's nice that Asta has someone so close to her own age to play with whenever Bridget is around. Penny likes to mother them both and show them how the world works (from a nine-year-old's point of view, anyway), but the two of them are always quite content to sit on the floor together and have a tea party or scribble with crayons. Asta even calls Tommy's mom "Gamma DiDi", which Dia loves. The other kids still call her Dia; they know she's not their grandma, just like Tommy is still "Tommy" to them, not dad.

Except for Asta. Tommy is the only other parent she's ever known, and he graduated from being "dada" to "dad" sometime before her second birthday (since her brothers and sister call me "daddy", I get to keep that title).

"Dad!" Speak of the devil child. "I got a pig!"

Tommy frowns at Asta as he tries to bend down and pick her up. His dress makes it more of a challenge than he's used to, and I have to try not to laugh as I watch him struggle with it for a second. "You got a what?"

"A pig!" She exclaims patting her fake black hair and grinning at him. "On my head!"

"Um..."

"And you got a pig, too!"

He snorts softly as he shakes his head at her and glances at me over his shoulder. "Is it wrong if I just like... _don't_ correct her on this one?"

"No." I assure him sincerely. "River called waffles 'wobbles' until he was four, and I never said a word about it. Sometimes they're too cute to be corrected!"

Asta turns her attention to me, her eyes lighting up the moment she truly notices my costume for the first time. "Daddy got a mustard like me!"

A mustard?

Oh!

"Yeah, I do." I smile at her, twirling the ends of my _mustache_ between my fingertips. " You like it?"

"No." She giggles as I gasp in exaggerated offense.

"No? _No_?!" I haven't even touched her when she starts squealing, and those squeals only become more piercing as soon as I lean in and begin kissing her cheek repeatedly, making sure that my moustache tickles her as I do so. " _Now_ do you like it? Huh?"

"No!" She practically squeaks through her laughter, attempting to bury her face in Tommy's fake boobs to escape my affectionate assault.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Protests Tommy, holding her at arm's length. "You're gonna wipe your mustard off! It took me forever to draw that damn thing 'cause _you_ wouldn't stop _squirming_!"

Right on cue, Asta begins squirming in his grasp until he's forced to (very awkwardly) set her back down on the ground. The two of us watch as she scurries off into the family room in search of her siblings, and I can't help but wonder how it's possible that she's almost _three-_ years-old already!

I swear she was still crawling around in diapers only a week ago.

After thanking Jenna for all of her help and relinquishing her of her childcare duties so that she can enjoy Halloween with her friends, we all pile into the minivan for the drive over to Burbank. It's almost dark by the time we get there, which is pretty perfect in my opinion. I'm not one of those people who thinks that trick-or-treating, or any Halloween celebrations for that matter, should be done in broad daylight!

To be completely honest, the carnival isn't the best one I've ever been to. But it's not my opinion that matters; the kids are all entertained, and that's the whole point. Ezra isn't _as_ impressed by the decorations and games as his little brothers, but he escorts them as they dart back and forth from booth to booth, doing his "big brotherly duty" without protest. Penny does the same for Asta, although Asta isn't _quite_ as sure of her surroundings are her brothers are. It takes her a while to warm up to the various ghosts and ghouls lurking everywhere she looks, but with Penny holding her hand and Tommy and I never far away, she soon gets used to all the masked monsters surrounding us. And once her best friend shows up, she couldn't be happier.  Along with all of the other parents and grandparents present, Tommy, Lisa, David, Dia and I hang back just enough to keep them all in sight while letting them explore on their own. And, of course, we spend a good chunk of the evening attached to our iPhones, snapping endless pictures of everything they do.

Since the carnival is aimed at younger kids, it's over early enough for us to grab some dinner at a reasonable hour. Thanks to Dia, the cake I ordered for Ezra's birthday was dropped off at our restaurant of choice before the carnival, and Lisa stashed the helium balloons in the back of her car so he wouldn't see them until the last possible second. I know he's getting too old for these family birthday dinners (again, _how_ did that happen?!). Soon he'll want to spend his birthday hanging out with his friends at the movies, or playing video games and eating pizza. But for now he's still happy (if a little embarrassed) to sit at the head of the table with balloons tied to his chair and a giant, flashing "Happy Birthday" button pinned to his Halloween costume. Or he's willing to make a good show of being happy about it for everyone else's benefit, at least. Either way, he seems to be having a great time.

And being presented with your own giant electric guitar-shaped cake is never a _bad_ thing!

After way too much diner food and birthday cake has been consumed, and Ezra's presents from Tommy's family have been opened, we do our best to clean up the mess we've made of the 3 tables we occupied at the restaurant (we can't go _anywhere_ without leaving destruction in our wake; I've nicknamed us Hurricane Hanson). Then Tommy and I half coax and half carry the kids out to the car. Asta is done for the night. She's passed out, covered in fondant and frosting, with mac and cheese in her hair and her "mustard" smeared across her face. I don't even wanna know where her "pig" went, I haven't seen it since we left the carnival. Her brothers and sister survive the ride home fully conscious, although Viggo demands a piggy back ride to the front door because his legs are "sooo tired". We do our best to get them out of their Addams Family attire and into their PJs, excusing the half-hearted jobs they all did of washing off their makeup while we were preoccupied with shedding our own costumes. And then we all congregate in the movie room for the final family activity of the night.

Ezra chooses "Beetlejuice", which everyone but Viggo is quite happy to watch. But when he's reminded that he'll get to choose the movie on his birthday, he grudgingly relents. It's a non-issue, though, because he's snoring beside River less than twenty minutes later. In fact, the only one of them who makes it through the entire movie without falling asleep is Ezra, and even he's heavy-lidded by the time the credits roll. I wish him happy birthday one more time before he drags himself off to bed, and then Tommy and I go about attempting to relocate Penny, River and Viggo to their rooms with minimal fuss.

Once I've gotten Penny back to sleep, I make my way downstairs to put away what was left of Ezra's cake, and Tommy lets Duke out into the backyard for a little while. I wasn't expecting to find the cake at all appetizing; it didn't even look all that edible at the restaurant once we were through massacring it so that everyone could get the specific piece they wanted. But I guess my dinner must have settled enough to make the moist chocolate cake and butter cream filling look appealing again. I've just finished serving myself a piece when I hear a faint noise somewhere behind me, and I quickly look up to find Tommy leaning in the kitchen archway with a knowing smirk on his pretty pink lips. God knows how long he's been watching me. Based on the look he's giving me, it was long enough to have witnessed me swiping more than my fair share of frosting off of the cake with my finger.

Because apparently _I_ turned twelve today, too.

"More cake?" He asks disapprovingly as he pushes himself away from the wall and begins to walk towards the kitchen island. "I don't know how you have room for any more food."

"I _always_ have room for more food." I tell him as I proudly pat my stomach.

He comes to a slow stop just in front of me, peering down into the box at what's left of Ezra's cake. "I totally don't get the appeal of this crap."

"Um, it's _delicious_?"

"The frosting is _way_ too sugary. Makes me sick."

"Maybe you just haven't had it served the right way before?" I suggest playfully, trying to keep a straight face as he raises a curious brow at me.

His gaze falls to my finger as it scoops a dollop of buttercream out from between the layers of cake on my plate, and he watches it closely as I lift it to his lips and wait for them to part. I can see that he's hesitant, not because he's uninterested in this little flirtation I've devised, but because he's entirely unconvinced that buttercream will taste any better served on my finger than it has every other time he's tried it. But eventually he takes a breath and opens his mouth just wide enough for me to slip my finger inside and allow him to slowly suck the cake filling off. I doubt he's enjoying this experience as much as I am, but he certainly seems to be making a meal out of the measly amount of buttercream I fed him. By the time he's done licking and sucking every last trace off it off of my skin, I'm so turned on that I can barely wait until my finger is all the way out of his mouth before I'm kissing him hungrily.

Forget birthday cake, _he_ is the only thing I have a craving for right now.

"Should I go put my costume back on?" He asks breathlessly.

For a split second, I consider telling him yes. But as incredible as he looked in it, and as much as I wanted him earlier this evening, right now it's not what I want at all. "No."

"It won't take long."

"I know, I just..." I pull back a little, breaking our embrace so that I can look at him. A soft smile curls my lips as I reach up and gently wipe a smudge of liner from the corner of his eye, my heart melting in my chest when he instinctively nuzzles his cheek into my palm. "I want _you_."

"You can have me anytime." He tells me in a near whisper, turning his face towards my hand and placing a feather light kiss to my wrist.

As soon as he's done I thread my fingers into his hair and draw him possessively close, crushing our mouths and our bodies together as I begin backing him out of the kitchen and into the dining room. I try to navigate him around the table before he bumps right into it, but he has other ideas. His hand reaches back to blindly shove one of the chairs aside, and he perches on the edge of the table as he pulls me up against him.

"Here?"

"Here." He insists, already pushing my t-shirt up over my chest, his lips following suit until he pauses to tug it over my head and cast it aside. "You've still gotta fuck me on the table, even if I'm not wearing a dress while you do it. It's tradition."

I swear I don't know how he _still_ has the power to stir this kind of reaction in me.

"But we didn't do it last Halloween." I point out in a murmur against his lips, my fingertips teasingly creeping beneath them hem of his Loudermilk shirt. "It's not _really_ a tradition if we only did it once before."

He gasps softly, arching into my touch. "So we should do it _twice_ this Halloween to make up for it."

"Good plan."

I'm not gonna lie, having sex anywhere besides our bedroom while the kids are in the house is risky. Even when they're asleep, there's always the chance that one of them might wake up (regardless of how quiet we try to be). It used to make me a lot more anxious than it does now. But we've gone two years without getting caught, so it's easier to relax and enjoy it. We generally settle for only doing it in rooms with a lock on the door. But when the kids are safely tucked into bed, and we have the house to ourselves, we tend to take more chances. The kitchen floor has seen plenty of action at this point, for example. This is the first time we've done it on the dining table, though.

Well, first and second.

Even using our "indoor voices" has become a turn on. Once an inconvenience, it has somehow become pretty damn hot. I used to be all about volume during sex. I don't mean being unnecessarily loud, that's just obnoxious, but hearing him moaning my name and begging me to make him come was always a surefire way to send _me_ over the edge. Now I've found that having to urge him to be quiet (and having to urge myself to do the same) has a similar effect on me. Watching him bite his lip to repress the sounds he  wants to make is electrifying. Hearing him whining and whimpering as he desperately tries not to cry out, and sometimes having to actually clamp my hand down over his mouth or stifle him with a kiss because he _can't_ hold it in... it drives me totally fucking _crazy_!

Tonight is one of those nights.

After going two rounds with him on the dining table, I have just enough energy left to clean myself up and drag myself back to the kitchen in search of sustenance. It might be his opinion that we just worked off our dinners, but _I_ believe I just earned myself some ice cream. And that's where he finds me, parked on the kitchen floor in my t-shirt and sweat pants, with a tub of Ben & Jerry's Pumpkin Cheesecake ice cream and a spoon. He gracelessly collapses beside me, resting his head on my shoulder and yawning loudly as I dig into my second (third?) dessert of the night.

Or possibly morning, at this point...

"You're a bottomless pit." He mumbles tiredly, even as he takes the spoon out of my hand and consumes the scoop of ice cream I was about to put in my own mouth.

"And damn proud of it."

For the longest time we simply sit side by side, sharing the ice cream and yawning whenever our mouths aren't full of food. It's one of those perfect, protracted moments where it feels like the rest of the world has been put on pause just for us, just to give us this time together. It doesn't happen very often (not as often as I wish it could), but I think that just makes it more special when we stumble across these secluded moments together.

"Trick or treat?" He eventually sighs into the silence of the kitchen.

"Wait... you mean sex and ice cream _wasn't_ my treat?"

Exhaling a soft breath of laughter, he raises his head from my shoulder and sits up a little straighter against the cabinet door behind him. "Okay, truth or dare?"

"Well, I definitely don't have the energy for a dare, so... truth?" I answer somewhat apprehensively, noting the faint trace of fear I can see in his eyes despite the dim light of the kitchen and his efforts to sound unconcerned.

"Okay..." He pauses, preparing himself, and I try my best to be patient as I wait for him to speak again. "Remember right after you and the kids first moved out here, and you met my mom, and she was like... kinda bummed out about the idea of never having any more grandkids or whatever-"

"She doesn't still feel that way, does she?" I frown, automatically sitting up a little straighter and setting the almost empty Ben & Jerry's tub down on the floor. I feel a serious conversation coming my way. "I thought she was fine with how things are now, she seems to really love the kids-"

"She does." He quickly assures me, placing his hand on my arm to wordlessly tell me that I'm freaking out over nothing. "And I'm pretty sure she _is_ totally fine with the idea of me not having any kids of my own, if that's what I want."

Okay...

"So then... what's this about?"

"That night, when we were sitting out by the pool and talking about how brunch went and everything, you said..." He falters again, clearly struggling with whatever it is he's trying to say. I thought that when I chose 'truth' I'd be forced to tell one, not hear one. And for some reason, this turn of events makes me even _more_ nervous. "You said that... like... if we, or I... I mean... if I ever felt like I wanted to..."

"Have another kid?" I finish for him, suddenly sure I know how he's trying to end that sentence but also completely thrown by the fact that he's bringing that night up after all this time.

"Yeah..."

"Are you saying... you want to have another kid?"

He seems to consider the question for a moment, as though the thought hadn't occurred to him until I just said it. But I can tell that's not the case at all. "Well, I mean... I'm not saying like right _now_ or anything..."

"But you're not saying never?"

"I never said never when we talked about it before."

"No, but you definitely seemed to think I was insane for suggesting it." I point out with a playful smirk, and he smiles sheepishly as he nods in acknowledgment.

"I _did_ think you were insane. I mean, I was still completely freaked out by the idea of helping you raise five kids, I didn't understand why the hell you would ever want to have another one!"

"I never said I wanted another one. I said that if _you_ wanted to have a kid some day, I was open to the idea."

His eyes search mine uncertainly, his face falling more noticeably with every passing second. "So... you _don't_ want another one?"

"That's not what I said."

"That's what it sounded like. Or like you'd do it if I wanted to, even if _you_ didn't really want to. And _I_ don't want that. That's what you had with Natalie, it's bullshit, I'm not gonna make you do something you don't wanna-"

This time I'm the one placing that soothing hand on his arm, and it silences him instantly. "I know. What I meant was, it was never about _me_ wanting more kids. I wanted you to have the option of having a kid that was _yours_."

"But it's like... I don't care if it's technically mine or not. It's not like it ever mattered to me that your kids aren't; I love them, you know that. This isn't about me not feeling like a real dad or whatever, 'cause I already _do_. I just... I don't know. I feel totally fucking crazy even thinking it, but... " He shrugs faintly, lowering his gaze to watch my fingers as they idly play with the metal band on his left ring finger. "I guess it's just not as scary anymore, you know? I'm not saying this is easy, or that having five kids ever feels entirely manageable. But like... we still do it. _Every_ fucking day. And... I don't think we're doing a shitty job of it or anything."

"Neither do I." I laugh quietly, finally coaxing a smile back onto his lips. "If you ask me, I think we make a pretty amazing team."

"Agreed."

"So..."

"So..." He parrots uncertainly. "Like... what're we saying here?"

"We're saying that... we're good parents." I begin carefully, trying to gauge his reaction to every word that leaves my mouth. "And we've been raising five kids together for two years now, and they're all still alive and _mostly_ sane. And..."

"And...?"

"And six would be a nice even number to round out our _extremely_ odd family."

It's the most remarkable feeling to watch the look on his face morph from obvious anxiety to absolute elation. If I wasn't already sure about doing this with him, his expression right now would be more than enough to sway me.

I can't help but compare this moment to my past experience with Natalie, particularly because he just did so himself. But he had it _so_ wrong. Every time she started to so much as _hint_ at the idea of having more kids, I felt as though I was suffocating, like all of the air had been sucked out of the room. But I gave in to keep her happy, to make sure that I would get to keep making music and touring, keep doing the things that kept me _breathing_.

I don't regret it. I have never felt a shred of regret over the birth of any of my kids. I love them all more than life itself. But this is the _first_ time in my whole life that I have ever _wanted_ a child before it was actually conceived.

I've never felt this way before.

I've never felt so _ready_ to be a father before, as crazy as that may sound.

"But I have one very important condition." I proposition, shifting on the floor until I'm fully facing him. I mean business. "I want _our_ baby to have _your_ eyes." He opens his mouth, probably to protest, but I don't give him a chance. "Or your smile, or better yet, your _nose_."

"Fuck you." He snorts, rolling his eyes at me as he gives me a pathetic shove to the chest.

"But I _love_ that nose!" I continue adamantly, leaning in closer and trying to kiss it. But he dodges every single attempt I make. "It's so cute and perky-"

" _Nothing_ about me is perky, asshole!"

Somewhere along the line on my quest to kiss the tip of his perfect little nose, I wind up pinning him to the kitchen floor. He's still refusing to give me a clear shot at it, so instead I settle for kissing every last bit of his face I _can_ get my lips on, until his whole body is shaking with laughter beneath me.

He's done it again.

He's found a way to make me happier than I've ever been before.


End file.
